The Scenic Route
by Girrlkitty
Summary: Carson Beckett and Rodney McKay find themselves stranded in an alien jungle, forced to hike back to the Gate.


TITLE: The Scenic Route  
AUTHOR: Girrlkitty  
STATUS: Complete  
RATING: G  
CATEGORY: General, humor, some whumping  
SUMMARY: Carson Beckett and Rodney McKay find themselves stranded in an alien jungle, forced to hike back to the Gate.  
SPOILERS: None  
WARNINGS: None  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the Yahoo! group, Dee, Yllek, Steph and Aniko, for encouraging me to keep going, and giving me great ideas along the way! This fic would not have been written without them. They did their best to catch my mistakes, so any you see are mine and mine alone.  
ARCHIVE: Do not archive without the author's express permission.  
DISCLAIMER: The Stargate, SGA, the Wraith, and all characters that have appeared in the series STARGATE ATLANTS, together with the names, titles, and back story, are the sole copyright property of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., the SciFi Channel, and Acme Shark. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea, and the story itself are the sole property of the author.

* * *

Doctors Carson Beckett and Rodney McKay glared at each other, the remains of a crashed jumper smoking several yards away. All around them the jungle came back to life, as unknown animals took the temporary silence to mean all was well. 

They didn't know that when the tempers of a Scotsman and an arrogant, but brilliant, physicist are aroused, nothing and no one is safe.

"You crashed the bloody jumper, Rodney. Stop trying to shift the blame to me!"

"Oh nononono! I will NOT take responsibility for this. If you hadn't been side-seat driving…"

"You were about to run us into a bloody tree!"

"And I would have recovered just fine if you hadn't distracted me by screaming like a little girl!"

"What was I supposed to do, whistle a charming ditty?"

"That would have been more useful!"

They lapsed into silence once more, penetrated only by disgusted snorts and glares from out of the corners of their eyes.

After a few minutes of wishing the man to bloody everlasting Hell, Carson's temper cooled enough to notice that Rodney was holding his arm close to his body. Right after the crash, he had given the man a once-over and had seen no blood, but hadn't gotten the chance to look any closer, since the argument had begun soon after.

With a sigh, he decided to call an unspoken truce. They could indulge in temper tantrums once they got home.

"Let me see that arm. It looks like you hurt it."

Rodney gave him a suspicious look, not having been privy to the mental conversation resulting in the truce. "Why?"

"I'm a doctor, that's why. You might be an arrogant bastard at times, but I'm not about to let you sit there in pain." He stood up, bringing the med kit he had rescued from the jumper with him. Although still glaring, Rodney allowed him to pull the arm away from his body to examine, wincing as Carson manipulated it. A dead tree stump wasn't exactly the best of examination tables, but it served its purpose.

"Looks like it's broken." The kit was equipped enough for a basic field dressing, but given that they had been a decent distance from the gate, and it was already getting dark, he decided to improvise and make something a bit more detailed. Besides, Rodney had a bad habit of gesturing wildly when he got excited.

He found a stiff piece of bark that had been shaved off one of the trees they hit on the way in. "What the hell is that for?" Rodney hadn't stopped glaring.

"The supplies in the field kit won't keep your arm still for long, especially with all that arm waving you do. This will help keep it in place until we get back to Atlantis and I can get a cast on it."

"Arm waving? What is that supposed to mean? If you are implying that I—," Rodney proceeded to throw both arms in the air, stopping short with a grunt as the injured one protested. Carson couldn't resist a smirk, although he chose to say nothing.

Without further protests, Rodney allowed him to bind the arm, saving his particularly nasty glares for when Carson pulled the bandages tight.

"There, that should do you for now lad. Now, are you done pouting, because it is starting to get dark, and it seems to me we could be doing more productive things."

Startled, Rodney stopped and seemingly took stock of the situation for the first time. Muttering under his breath, Carson caught snatches about how far in they had come, the path they had taken, and how much time had passed. He knew they weren't due to check in until tomorrow afternoon, and even then, the dense jungle would make it nearly impossible for anyone to spot the crash site from the ground.

"Oh, this is so not good," Rodney finally said out loud.

* * *

"Elizabeth, you have to let me go back." Rodney paced back and forth across her office, punctuating his points with wild hand motions. "Those were Ancient devices. Who knows why they were there. We haven't found any evidence of life, so maybe this is the weapon we have been looking for. Maybe it is an outpost of some sort. Maybe it is the Ancient equivalent of an outhouse. The point is that we won't know unless you let me go run tests." 

Doctor Elizabeth Weir, head of the Atlantis expedition, watched her head scientist and the most brilliant man she knew, wear a hole in her floor. She had already turned down his request three times, but he kept coming back. The problem wasn't so much that she thought it was a bad idea as that he wanted to bring someone else with the gene to perform the tests while he recorded the data. And everyone with the gene was busy.

"Rodney."

"I mean, you can't just ignore something like this. You all expect me to save the day, pull another miracle out of my ass every time the city is in trouble, and fine, I can do that, but if you want me to be at all efficient…" He kept talking, oblivious to the fact that Elizabeth had spoken at all.

"Rodney!"

"…You have to let me actually investigate things. You know, run tests to see what things do. Because who knows if what I need to save the day the next time you need a Superman is out there in that jungle…" He was like an Energizer bunny. He just kept going, and Elizabeth fought off the urge to just let him go and see how long it would take for his batteries to run down.

"RODNEY!"

"And…Oh. Yes?" His stopped pacing and looked up, as her volume finally cut through his soliloquy.

"Look, you know that I agree with you to a certain degree. And if there was someone available with the gene who could go with you for a few days, I would give you the go-ahead. But the simple fact is that we don't have anyone." Maybe that would get through to him.

Unfortunately, Doctor Carson Beckett walked into her office at precisely the wrong time. And seeing as how Rodney had stopped in a corner and was now hidden behind the door, he had no idea they weren't alone.

"Elizabeth, I was wondering if you minded if I took a few days off from the infirmary. We don't have anything pressing, and there are a few things…"

He never got any further.

"There! Carson! He has the gene, and he just said he can take a few days off!" Rodney popped out, making the Scotsman bang his elbow on the doorframe as he whipped around.

"Wha…"

"See, he doesn't mind! Please Elizabeth? Just a few days. We will be there and back before you know it!" Rodney turned his pathetic puppy dog/scientist on a mission look on her, and Elizabeth made a snap decision, hoping Carson would forgive her later. But Heaven help her, this was the only way to shut him up.

"All right Rodney. If Carson has agreed..."

"Yes, yes. We will leave in an hour. I just need to grab my things." With that he was out the door and headed to his lab.

Elizabeth looked at the beleaguered doctor standing in her doorway. "I'm sorry Carson. But this will be a quick trip, and it will keep him happy. Look at it as a vacation."

"But…" Carson's voice trailed off weakly as Elizabeth took the opportunity to escape before he regained his wits. She knew it was a bit cowardly to take advantage of a poleaxed man like that, but she justified it by telling herself he really did need to get out more. She wasn't a doctor, but he looked like he needed some sun. A few days in the jungle would be good for him.

* * *

As night descended over the jungle, Carson and Rodney surveyed the wreck, trying to determine whether or not it would make a decent shelter for the night. This, of course, led to another argument. 

"Carson, I'm telling you, there could be wild, man-eating things out here. We are not sleeping on the ground."

"And I'm telling you that with the angle of that jumper and the hardness of those seats, sleep is the last thing we'll be getting. Would you get a bloody grip man and listen to someone else for a change?

"Oh, sure! And I bet you won't hesitate to push me into the path of the ravenous beaver when it comes rushing into camp!"

"The…what are you blathering about?" Disgusted, Carson stalked over to the jumper and started rooting around for blankets. It wasn't cold yet, but he didn't know what kind of weather this jungle had in store. Looking around, he spotted some cushy pine needles that would make a fine bed for the night. While Rodney stood there spluttering, Carson turned his back and started nesting.

With more muttering under his breath, none of which Carson caught, Rodney made his way back into the jumper. He heard a few interesting thumps, a bump or two that may or may not have been things falling on Rodney's head, and then a string of curses as he most likely jarred his broken arm. Carson settled down with a slight grin, and took a vicious sort of pleasure knowing Rodney was going to sleep very poorly.

As the black night turned first a pale grey, then reluctantly allowed color to start seeping back into the world, Carson woke up and stretched, surprised at just how well he had slept. Pine needles and exhaustion made for a good combination apparently. Of course, he had several pine needle impressions in his body, and there had been a rock that really wanted to bore its way into his side, but it would take Rodney's ravenous beavers to drag it out of him.

He pushed himself up and wished vaguely for hot coffee and maybe a sticky bun. Tuesdays were sticky bun days in the mess hall, and the hefty Marine who made them happened to like Carson. He usually saved a few extras for him.

He walked over to the downed Jumper and found Rodney curled in an odd position on the bench, his bad arm tucked up close to his body. That was going to cause kinks. Steeling himself for a long day, he walked over and shook the man gently to wake him up.

"Rodney."

Other than a grunt and a vague swat with the good arm, he got nothing. Considering the man and his deplorable eating habits, Carson had a feeling he knew how to get him moving. Leaning in close, he whispered in Rodney's ear.

"Coffee. Hot, steaming pot of coffee."

"What! Carson! Get away from me! What the hell do you think you are doing?"

Smiling slightly, Carson started to rummage through the scattered gear, looking for the PowerBars he knew Rodney would need to keep his blood sugar up. "You wouldn't respond to normal persuasion. I had to resort to drastic measures."

"By promising me coffee? Aren't you the one who keeps trying to cut me back?"

"True, but I'm not actually giving you any, now am I?"

He let the scientist splutter for a moment, and then decided to get him focused. "Anyway, we need to see about getting something working to tell people where we are." Finally finding a PowerBar cache, he turned and tossed one to his companion, hitting him on the head, as Rodney had turned to pull out his ever-present laptop.

"OW! What did you do that for?"

Rapidly considering his options, Carson reluctantly came to the conclusion that baiting the man you were counting on to get you out of the mess he got you into in the first place is probably not the wisest course of action. "Just checking your reaction times. When we get back, I should probably run a few tests."

"You are not sticking me with any needles just because you thought it would be funny to bean me with breakfast."

Rodney hadn't looked up from his screen as he talked, although he had managed to unwrap the bar with his teeth and start eating. "Oh, this is not good."

"What?" Carson looked over from where he was still sorting the various supplies strewn around the jumper. "What's wrong?"

"The crash messed with the systems. I can't pull anything up this way." He moved away from the laptop and over to the compartment, where he pulled out the panel which held the control crystals for the Jumper. As he did, Carson heard the tinkling noise of broken glass, or whatever they were made of, hitting the floor.

"We are so screwed."

* * *

Rodney McKay stared at the shattered crystals glittering on the floor. Fighting down a wave of panic, he looked back into the console to see a few had survived. 

"It looks like it was just the ones for communications and propulsion. So, even if we, and by that I mean me, could repair the jumper, it wouldn't fly anyway…"

Carson looked up from the pile of strewn equipment. "And this is supposed to make me feel better?"

"Um, no. But if someone hadn't so rudely interrupted me, I would have said that I might be able to re-route power to the communications system from one of the others, thereby establish contact and saving the day."

"Then why are you standing there yapping at me? Don't you think it would be better to get to it man?"

Rodney glared at the Chief Medical Officer of Atlantis and resisted the urge to hit him. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that at some point in the future Carson would be coming at him with a needle, and pissing off the guy who is going to stick you just didn't seem like a great idea.

After fiddling with his laptop a bit, silently cursing the lame arm, he decided on the best way to proceed given the crystals they had left.

"Come hold this." He pulled a crystal out and thrust it behind him without turning around. When he felt it leave his hand, he went back to tweaking power readings.

"Okay, now I need you to put it in the third slot to the right when I say go."

"Me? Why me?" Carson sounded a bit nervous, and that just irritated Rodney.

"Because I need to monitor what's going on, and I only have one hand at the moment, that's why. Now, insert the crystal and let's phone home."

In retrospect, Rodney thought, he should have actually pointed out which slot Carson was supposed to be manipulating. Irritation notwithstanding, killing and/or maiming him was not exactly destined to put him in the good graces of the rest of the expedition team. But staring at the doctor on the floor, where he had slumped down after being thrown against the wall by a jolt of power, Rodney realized hindsight was something he didn't have the luxury for right now.

"Carson. Carson, please wake up. Oh God. You really need to wake up and fix yourself." Rodney knelt next to him, shaking him. And his efforts were rewarded with a groan and a flittering of pain across the doctor's face.

"What the bloody hell just happened? I feel like I've been eaten by your bloody beavers and spit back out again."

"I told you the third to the right, not left. You must have caused a surge."

Carson managed to pull off a look that held both disbelief and disgust at the same time. Rodney was impressed. "You bloody electrocuted me!"

"Well, if you want to get technical about it… Anyway, why don't we…" As Rodney turned back to the panel, he trailed off in shock. The remaining crystals had all been shattered by the surge. And that meant there was no way to call Atlantis, or even let them know where they were.

* * *

Electrocution. Now didn't that just make this trip complete? Carson didn't notice that Rodney had finally stopped talking for a few heartbeats, as he mentally checked himself over for injuries. Slight concussion from being thrown into a wall: check. Muscles all felt as if he had been running for two days without stopping from having so much current pass through him: check. Headache from all of the above plus Rodney's chatter: check. He looked up, just in time to catch the horrified look before his best hope at making it home managed to school his features. 

"Something else is wrong." He made it a statement, instead of a question, falling back on the bedside manner he used with reluctant patients, including, on occasion, Rodney himself.

"Yeah, well, that last surge did more than light you up, Mister Christmas Tree. It also blew out the remaining crystals."

Carson closed his eyes and decided not to wonder how things could get any worse ever again. Doing that seemed to be the trigger for something else to go wrong.

"Well, I guess we will have to walk back to the gate then. There is no way they would ever be able to find us in this jungle cover." Rodney started to gather up what Carson had rummaged earlier. There were several backpacks among the supplies, so he began packing items into them.

"How far away is the gate? And which direction? We aren't exactly in tip top shape."

"Well, it is back that way," Rodney waved his good arm in a vague direction. "As to how far, we were going pretty fast, and it is a big planet. Maybe a few days? But it's not like we really have a choice, Carson."

Pushing himself up, wondering at the human body's ability to function under adverse conditions, he went over and started packing as well. "I suppose you're right."

The two men managed to pack fairly quickly, the training John Sheppard had rammed down everyone's throats for off world missions suddenly proving to be useful.

"All right." Rodney hefted his pack up, not quite managing to hide his grimace as he pulled on the injured arm. "Let's get going, shall we."

Carson wondered what he had done to deserve this kind of punishment. He had gone to Elizabeth's office with visions of a little research on the mainland coupled with lots of relaxing. On the beach maybe. But instead, he was hiking through dense jungle, every muscle in his body protesting from being electrocuted, and then, to top it all off, his only companion had a broken arm, so yours truly was the only one capable of cutting the path.

Although, he had to silently admit, if nothing else this whole experience was giving him new insight into Rodney McKay, and through that, insight into Sheppard and his team. Carson knew Rodney had been influenced by the Colonel in how to behave when off world, and the flagship team of Atlantis was well-known for their extreme loyalty to one another. And he was getting a taste of that now.

He knew Rodney was hurting. A few ibuprofen from the med kit were not enough to stifle it, and yet the man had not only attempted to fix the jumper, he was barely complaining. Carson would have been worried if he hadn't caught the pain lines when Rodney thought he wasn't looking. In this case, the scientist had more experience and he knew it. In a way, he was playing John Sheppard on this trip, protecting the guy who was less prepared to handle the challenges being off world, much less being stranded in the jungle, offered.

Not that Carson would ever admit to this admiration. For all that, Rodney was still twice as arrogant as any other man he had ever met, and had no qualms about letting the world know just how great he was. In a bizarre way, it was part of his charm. But he wasn't about to feed the ego. They had to spend the next several days hiking together, and he really didn't want to invite that kind of abuse.

Actually, he had bigger concerns than the highs and lows of Rodney's ego– his blood-sugar level. They had recovered some supplies from the jumper, but not enough to last them for the entire hike. They had planned to be on this planet for two days, and had requisitioned accordingly. Now they were already on day two, and were lost in the jungle, not to mention some of the supplies had been either too damaged or too bulky to bring with them. Carson wasn't about to let Rodney pass out or die on him from lack of food right as they made it to the gate. It was a matter of professional pride.

He had paid attention to the foliage as he hacked his way through it, but while he could have told you what was poisonous and what was safe back on Earth, there was no telling in a place like this, especially not without any testing equipment. With a mental sigh, Carson realized he was going to have to make some educated guesses. And since doctors don't experiment on patients, he was going to have to be his own subject. It was a bit dangerous, but what choice did he have? He only hoped Rodney hadn't thought of that. This would be easier if he didn't realize what was going on."Want to take a break?" Rodney's question, coming after several hours of silence, startled him into stopping.

"Want to take a break?" Rodney's question, coming after several hours of silence, startled him into stopping.

"What?"

"A break, Carson. You've been playing Rambo for a few hours now."

Apparently, Rodney was more observant than he gave the man credit for. His direct stare let Carson know, in no uncertain terms, that the scientist had noticed his winces when he connected with the plant life. He had tried to keep his increasing fatigue and pain to himself. He would have to be more careful later.

"Yes, that would be lovely. And you should eat something." Two could play the mother hen game.

* * *

Rodney had been watching Carson for a few hours now. The good doctor wanted him to believe he was fine, but Rodney knew better. Carson had taken a huge hit from that power surge, and had they not been stranded in the middle of nowhere, he probably would have been confined to a bed for a few days. Instead, he was trekking through the jungle, being forced to take point since Rodney himself had a rather inconvenient injury. 

"I refuse to move until you eat this jerky." He eyed the other man, deciding that while he couldn't take back the events that had gotten them here, he would at least make sure he got him back alive. Besides, the rest of the medical staff were all rough with their needle techniques.

He wasn't sure how long he had been hearing the sound before it really penetrated his thoughts. Walking and watching Carson and dealing with his arm had taken up all of his attention. It wasn't a loud noise, and it blended into the sound of Carson's big knife slashing through the vegetation.

"Stop." He froze, and Carson did the same. For a moment, a few seconds, they heard the crunching of leaves, before it suddenly realized its cover noise was blown and froze as well.

"Did you hear that?" The doctor's voice had gone up several octaves.

"I think it is safe to say we are being followed."

"I thought there was nothing hostile on this planet!"

"Well, we didn't exactly have time to get back all the surveys. Woodland creatures are notoriously late with that sort of thing. Now would you be quiet a moment." Rodney pulled the gun out of its holster at his leg, awkwardly considering it was on his right side, and that arm was a bit indisposed at the moment.

"Okay, keep blazing our path, and if anything jumps out at us, I'll shoot it."

Carson eyed the scientist with suspicion. "Rodney, can you fire left-handed?"

Since there really wasn't a good way to answer that without causing panic, Rodney chose to give him a disgusted look, waving the gun in a shooing motion to get him moving again. Carson gave him another, harder, look, then turned back to the path. "If you shoot me Rodney…"

They started working their way forward again, with whatever was following them not too far behind. Rodney tried to pinpoint exactly where their stalker could be at, behind them, ahead, or off to the side. He had just about decided it was behind them, when Carson gave a strangled scream, stumbling backwards.

A large hairy creature appeared in front of them.

Rodney started firing.

The thing melted back into the forest, likely startled by the loud noise. Rodney hadn't managed to hit it, but he had managed to find another target.

"You bloody shot me!" Carson held his hand against his arm, where already the sleeve was starting to turn red.

"No!" Despite the evidence, he was not ready to believe he had just wounded Carson a second time in two days.

"What do you mean no? I'm bleeding! Do you think I shot myself?"

"I didn't mean to! Really!"

"I thought you said you could shoot left-handed!"

"When did I say that? I distinctly remember choosing not to answer that question!"

With a strangled sound that could either have been a growl or a scream, Carson rummaged in the pack for the last of the bandages from the first aid kit. Rodney decided that whatever the doctor was saying under his breath would be neither flattering nor useful, so trying to hear it would be pointless.

"Need some help?" He couldn't see how anyone, even the chief medical officer, could bandage his own arm with any degree of success.

"No." The Scot paused briefly, the seemed to give in. "Yes. Bloody hell. I can't believe you shot me."

"I am really sorry about that. Hey, why don't you shoot me, then we will be even." He thrust the gun out, knowing full well Carson would never do such a thing. It was a nice gesture though.

"It would serve you right if I did!" With a bit more muttering, in what Rodney was pretty sure wasn't English, the doctor walked him through the bandaging.

By the time that was done, Rodney noticed that it was starting to get dark. "We aren't going to make it much further today. Why don't we set up camp here for the night?"

Together, the pair managed to hobble together a tent. Rodney did his best to avoid the killer looks that came his way every time Carson tried to do something that pulled his arm, and ignored the cursing. Just as it was really starting to get dark, they finished up, and managed to get a small fire going. He saw the doctor slip something into his mouth, but decided it was probably pain medication. Before he could ask, he was handed a handful of odd berries.

"Eat these. We should conserve our rations for when there is nothing edible around."

"How do you know these are edible? We are on an alien plant, they don't have blueberries."

"I just do, Rodney. Eat them before you pass out. I'm not feeling up to reviving you tonight if you do."

The whole day, the walking, the throbbing in his arm, the wild ravenous creature, the shooting, all caught up with Rodney and he was suddenly too tired to argue. He ate the berries. "All right, and I think we should set up a watch, in case the beaver comes back."

"Beaver? What it is with you and bloody beavers? Argh. Fine. Get some sleep. I will wake you up in a few hours."

Rodney didn't argue. He rolled over, and let sleep claim him.

* * *

Do. No. Harm. 

That was the oath he had taken, and he took it very seriously. However, after first having been shocked, then having a bullet lodged in his arm, Carson debated reconsidering the oath. Just a few minutes, that is all he would need.

He glanced over at the sleeping form of his companion, and sighed, letting his frustration go. In sleep, relaxed, Rodney looked particularly vulnerable. There was a certain amount of pain across his forehead, and the fact that he had fallen asleep so quickly was fairly telling. The man could be annoying and hard to get along with, but Heaven help him, Carson knew he counted Sleeping Beauty among his circle of friends. He didn't know how it had happened, but, along with Elizabeth and Colonel Sheppard, Rodney was one of the few people he trusted with his life.

And why was he getting so introspective on this trip? Shaking his head, Carson rose to his feet and walked around the perimeter of the camp, like he had been taught, listening and looking for anything that might be out of place. The beastie that had attacked them was still out there somewhere, and he wasn't much in the mood to get shot twice in the same day.

Everything was quiet, although he couldn't quite shake the feeling of being watched. Whether it was paranoia or something more, along with the overall aches and pains, it kept him alert and moving.

When his watch finally read midnight, he shook Rodney awake. "Time to take over." Since he was about to pass out at that point from exhaustion and everything else, he was grateful the man woke up quickly. He knew he was starting to slur his words, but Rodney didn't seem to notice.

"It's midnight already?" He didn't seem to need an answer, since he didn't stop long enough to get one. "Get some sleep. You look like hell."

"Gee thanks. You look like a bunch of roses too."

Rodney just grinned, then moved out of his line of sight. Carson heard the sound of a PowerBar being unwrapped, then didn't hear anything else for a while.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he felt a toe nudging him in the side, but everything had the grayish cast of pre-dawn to it, so he guessed several hours. With a grunt, he rolled over to see Rodney staring down at him. "You look about as bad as I feel," was about all he could get out.

"Well, then we're a matched set then aren't we?" The scientist, seemingly satisfied that his doctor was still alive and mobile, went back to the task he had apparently already started of breaking down their meager camp.

"Any more signs of our shaggy friend?" Carson asked as he worked himself into a sitting position.

"None. Maybe my prowess with the gun has him running scared." It was a weak attempt at a joke, but Carson chuckled anyway, glad to at least start the day on the right foot.

The doctor got to his feet, and decided that he would never taunt another injured soldier that came to his infirmary, no matter how stupid the accident was, ever again. If any of his nurses even tried to make light of how badly he ached, he might have to kill them.

There was another bush of the berries he had already tested the day before nearby, so while Rodney finished packing away the blankets they had used and covered over the ashes of the small fire, he harvested every piece of fruit that looked half-way ripe.

"Here lad. Save the PowerBars for when we don't have any other options. There is no telling how long this little hike will take." Rodney looked a bit startled at that, as if the rations, or fast-dwindling supply of them, hadn't crossed his mind yet.

"It can't be much farther. I mean, we have been hiking for a full day now. And we have been on this cursed planet for going on three days now. You would think someone would decide to come check on us!"

Good old Rodney, Carson chuckled to himself, no matter the odds or the conditions, you could always count on the man to be indignant about it.

As if on cue, they both suddenly heard the whine of a jumper overhead. Looking up, they both tried to see through the dense foliage, but couldn't catch even a glimpse of flying metal.

"Well, that answers that question. Took them long enough." Rodney even managed to sound exasperated that they had come looking for the lost pair. "It sounded like they came from this direction, so we are heading the right way at least."

The scientist then lapsed into muttering, so Carson took the opportunity to pull on his pack, belting the knife around his waist where it would be handy for when they got moving. "Ready Rodney?

"Yes, yes. Let's go."

They moved much slower than the day before, both feeling their injuries more, not to mention Carson now had a wounded arm. It hurt like hell, but at least Rodney had had the decency to shoot him in the left arm and not the right. If someone was going to shoot you, it was the least they could do to leave your best arm free to cut paths through jungle forests.

Every now and then, they could hear a jumper moving along overhead, and the first few times, they tried shouting. Rodney even attempted to climb a tree, but Carson threatened to shoot him in the leg if he so much as put a foot against the rough bark.

It was about lunch time when they stumbled into, literally, a river.

"Bloody hell!" Carson found himself not only sore and tired, but now dripping as well.

"Decided to take a bath?" Rodney stood on the bank, dry, and didn't even try to hide the smirk.

"You know, this might not be a bad thing." The water wasn't actually cold, just mildly cool, and while sopping wet clothes weren't his cup of tea, he could use this opportunity to get both of their various injuries cleaned out much better.

"What do you mean?" The smirk melted off the scientist's face, replaced by wariness.

"We both stink, Rodney. Not to mention we both have open sores and who knows how many cuts and scratches. Time to take a bath." He waded back up to the bank, took off his pack, and started stripping off his shirt.

"What do you think you're doing, Carson? I am NOT getting naked with you, no matter how much you want my body."

Shirt gone now, Carson started on his pants. "If you want to stink, which, I may add, will attract all the wild ravenous beavers in the area right to you, be my guest. Not to mention, those cuts will start to fester if you don't clean them out. I can always take off the arm when we get back." Now shed of his clothes and taking a certain amount of amusement over his companion's horror, he waded in.

The water felt even better with no clothes on. There was something about skinny-dipping that made a simple swim feel more invigorating, even when taken with arrogant, egotistical physicists, rather than beautiful women.

Spluttering, Rodney dropped his pack and started unbuttoning his shirt one-handed. "If you so much as peek at me, I swear you will go to Hell."

"I'm a doctor, and one who has had to operate on you more than once. How else did you think you got into all those hospital gowns unconscious?"

Rodney shot him a horrified look, and Carson was impressed over how much of his body the blush spread.

"You are in better shape than I thought, Rodney! Very nice." Knowing it would drive the man crazy, Carson deliberately looked him up and down. You just didn't opportunities like this very often. He was seizing the day and all that.

"WHAT? You so did not just do that!" Rodney turned his back, and Carson fought down the urge to call out 'nice ass'.

Using the sand from the bottom of the riverbed, Carson began to scrub every inch of his body. The bruised and slashed places, not to mention the bullet-wound, stung, but it was good to let them bleed a little in the clean water. He sunk down to his neck, and took a moment to just enjoy the feel of the current against his chest, legs, and arms.

With a sigh, the doctor switched into his professional gears. He waded over to a fast-reddening Rodney to re-bandage the arm and insure all the cuts had been cleaned properly.

"Just where do you think you're going?" The scientist backed away quickly, tripping and splashing backwards into the water, going under briefly. "Stay away from me!"

With a mental prayer for protection from fools, idiots, and physicists, Carson advanced on him again. "Making sure everything that can be cleaned has been, and anything that can be wrapped up, is done so properly."

"Can't you put some clothes on first?"

"If I did that, you would find a reason to get dressed too. I need to make sure you got everything clean."

"Don't the Scottish have any decency? You can just walk up to a man, naked as you please, and put your hands all over him, doctor or not!"

"Rodney, I promise not to touch anything, ah, sensitive, and I won't enjoy this in the slightest."

"Liar! I can see you laughing at me! I know I am a damn fine specimen of a man, but I won't let you take advantage of me!"

His expression warring between exasperation and full-out amusement, Carson shook his head and finally took the easy route of grabbing the man by his arm and holding him in place. "You are acting like a 16-year-old girl. I don't want your body, I just want to keep you healthy. And the longer you fight me, the longer this is going to take."

With skin that looked like he had been out sunbathing in the nude for several hours longer than was healthy, Rodney stood still long enough for Carson to wash out a few of the scrapes on his back he hadn't been able to reach. Finally, it was over.

"There, go put your clothes back on Captain Modesty, then I can re-wrap your arm." Carson started back over to where his own clothes were piled on the shore.

* * *

Sheep. That is the only thing Rodney could think of. Growing up around sheep must do something to a person's mind. He scrambled over to his clothes, feeling much better once he was wearing pants again. Turning around, he saw that Carson was dawdling in the river. 

"Can you PLEASE go put some clothing on? I mean really."

"We aren't in a rush, Rodney, and the water feels good on my wounds."

"Not in a rush? Um, hello. Lost in an alien jungle here! Or would you like to stay here and skinny dip while I go find the Stargate? I'll be sure to send someone back after you just as soon as I can."

"It's starting to get dark, and this is as good a place as any to camp. Take this as a nice break before going back to hard work."

"Oh, great, now you want to moon the moon?"

"Don't be crude. Remember who sticks the catheters in when you get injured."

The scientist blanched for a second. "You…you…You are evil!"

The chuckle drifted over to him from the rapidly darkening river. "Nae. I have just been learning from the best at witty repartee."

"Hmph."

Slightly mollified, Rodney went over to where the rest of their gear had been dropped, and started setting up camp, finishing just as full darkness set in. After a while, he heard splashing, and then a still-dripping Carson came into the firelight. And thank God for small favors, he had pants on.

"All done?"

"Aye. I feel much better." Despite the words, he could see that the CMO was holding his arm against his body. Well, if this made him forget the pain for a few minutes, and more importantly forgot who shot him for a few minutes, then he supposed he could play along.

"So, now that you've put your hands all over my wet, naked body, does that mean I need to buy you flowers and call you sweetie?"

Carson's head shot up at that, and after a moment of surprise, he grinned. "I don't know, I rather prefer chocolate honey-bun."

They both managed a real laugh at that, then settled down for a meal of PowerBars and alien raspberries. "You know," Rodney mumbled around his food, "the least you could do after man-handling me would be to buy me a nicer dinner."

"Of course, how could I forget. Your fine wine, sir." The doctor handed him a cup of the clear river water.

"Ewww, you were naked in that. I don't want to get Carson cooties."

Carson made a noise that sounded like a cross between a laugh and snort. "Don't worry, if you catch them, I can give you an injection when we get back. It will clear it right up for you."

"Uh, thanks, but on second thought, no cooties in this wine!" He took a long drink. "See, no need for shots here!"

Shaking his head, the doctor rolled over to his sleeping bag. "Good night, Rodney."

Since it was his turn to take first watch, Rodney settled down to listen to the sounds of the jungle, and watch the moonlight dance across the water.

* * *

Carson shook Rodney awake as the dawn started staining the sky. The river allowed just enough break in the trees to allow slim slivers of sky to trickle through. He had admired the effect for a while, before finally deciding to wake his hiking buddy up. 

He placed an open PowerBar in the scientist's hand before he could wake up enough to realize it was the last one. Rodney ate it methodically, not seeming to realize he was even doing so. Carson popped the last few of the berries in his mouth, worried that he hadn't seen any more of the bushes since the first day.

Quietly, they packed up the camp, stopping only to look up when they heard the whine of another jumper overhead. At least they were still looking for them.

Carson took one last opportunity to splash some cool water on his face. He had taken another quick bath and cleaned out his wounds again before waking Rodney. Who knew the man was a closet prude?

As they hiked in more or less the direction the jumpers had all come from, they both slowly became aware of the same noise that had stalked them before.

"Do you hear that?" Carson was pretty sure whispering was unnecessary, but he couldn't help himself. He let his eyes dart around, tried to see past the green in front of him and into the shadows beyond.

"Yes." Carson was a bit surprised by the curt answer, glancing back to make sure nothing was wrong. He saw the same wary fear he felt reflected in Rodney's eyes, and choose not to push it.

They hacked their way forward through the morning, stopping only for a brief pause to rest as the day started to warm up.

Before Rodney could notice they had no food and ask about it, Carson spotted another on of the berry bushes. There weren't many on this one, so he stopped to pick them all, and handed them back.

"Aren't you going to have any? Wait a minute..." Carson saw realization dawn, as the other man suddenly put it all together. "Have you eaten anything since we crashed?"

"Aye, I have had some of the berries."

"Carson!"

"You are more delicate than I am, Rodney. I can go a few days without food."

"Delicate? Who is it that goes off-world and gets in gun battles and fights the wraith regularly?

"Colonel Sheppard?"

"And me! I am not delicate. And stop trying to change the subject!"

Sighing, Carson looked around and spotted another berry bush, this one slightly different that the others he had been picking. These berries were bright red, but they were close to the others, so he hoped that meant they were safe as well.

"Look, I'll eat these!" He picked a few and held up a handful.

"Are they safe?" Rodney looked suspicious, so to avoid an argument, Carson decided to lie. "Of course they are! Would I eat them if they weren't?" He popped a few in his mouth, and to avoid talking about it any further, he started off again.

As soon as he did, the sound of their elusive shadow following them began again as well. That was getting old.

Rodney noticed that as the afternoon was wearing on, Carson was moving slower, and was carefully keeping his face turned away. He was starting to get suspicious.

And their twice-damned stalker was still back there. And this was supposed to be a nice, easy jaunt. No restless natives, no soul-eating wraith, just a long commune with Ancient technology. Where had it all gone so wrong?

It wasn't quite time to make camp yet, they still had perhaps two or three hours of light left, when Carson just stopped, then seemed to crumple to the ground.

"Carson!"

Rodney ran to him, barely catching him one-handed before he hit the ground. The doctor was unconscious, with obvious pain across his face. And they were stuck in the middle of the jungle.

Panic started to set in.

But before he could get his wits together, the large, furry creature popped up next to him, and grabbed his Chief Medical Officer right out of his arms.

"HEY!" It was the best he could come up with. Rodney wildly thought for a moment that only Carson Beckett could manage to get himself abducted by mutant beavers, but the thought flitted across his mind and was gone again as he scrambled to his feet and took chase.

The thing moved fast, and left a nice path to follow. And here Carson had been hacking away at the foliage. Running it over seemed to be a lot more effective.

He chased the thing for a good half hour, until his chest was burning and his legs felt like Jell-o. The light was just starting to fade when he burst out into a clearing and almost ran right into his hairy quarry.

Between trying to catch his breath and trying to decide if this thing was going to eat them both, he looked up and saw it there. The Stargate. Home.

Urgent grunts got his attention, and he looked at Fluffy, who was standing over a still-dead-to-the-world Carson. With a mental wince, Rodney regretted that choice of phrasing.

"Um, ah, fetch!" He picked up a stick and threw it back towards the jungle, vaguely hoping the beast would actually comply.

No such luck. But the thing did move away from Carson, and stopped. It grunted again, and when Rodney started edging towards his friend, it didn't look like it was going to come after him.

As quickly as he dared, Rodney dialed the gate and punched in his IDC, hoping no one had gotten around to changing the codes yet. With one last look behind him, he saw his beaver grunt one last time, then fade back into the jungle.

At least this fido didn't try to follow him home. He didn't think Elizabeth would appreciate that.

* * *

(2 Months Later) 

Rodney moved quickly through the corridors of Atlantis. It had taken him weeks to untangle the mess his so-called assistants had made of things trying to rewire the computers to home in on himself and Carson during their little jungle jaunt.

Carson, the idiot Scot, had recovered, although he had only been returned to full active duty this past week. That would teach him to eat alien fruit.

He turned a corner to head into his office and stopped short.

There, sitting on his laptop, was a stuffed beaver, with pointy teeth taped to its mouth. Rodney felt his mouth move a few times, but no sound came out.

He was going to kill Carson.


End file.
